


As Seen On TV

by decadent_mousse



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cuddles, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hallucinations, Infomercials, Insomnia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Game(s), a little bit, internalized ableism, really brief hallucinations but they are there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:24:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh has serious problems with falling asleep, staying asleep, and late-night television.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Seen On TV

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Until Dawn fic, and I'd like to thank (blame?!) [Emerald Embers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers) for getting me into this mess, and to all my other friends who encouraged me to branch out in my writing. <3

Monday was Movie Night in their household.  Partly because Monday Movie Night had a nice alliterative appeal and partly because Mondays sucked ass, because they were a) they start of Chris’ work _and_  school week -- which could be hectic -- and b) they were when Josh had therapy.  Even though he liked his new therapist way more than his old one, it was still always a weird day that left him feeling like one big exposed nerve.  She told him it was because he had “difficulties opening up about his feelings,” and alright, she probably had a point.

The _point_  was that by Monday night they both needed to chill so they could embrace the rest of the week, and watching incredibly cheesy movies helped facilitate that.  Pizza also helped.

He had the routine down by heart.  Every other Monday, he picked out the movies, and the weeks he didn’t, Chris would.  Josh called for the pizza about half an hour before Chris got off of work, and it usually would get there right around the time he got home.  They’d eat, flick sausage at each other, cuddle up while they watched movies until they were ready for bed.  It was basically the perfect home date night.

Hannah staring at him while he ordered the pizza put a bit of a damper on things this particular night, though.

He knew the hallucinations weren’t real, but that didn’t make them any less terrifying.  They looked real, they sounded real -- they felt real.  They were happening less frequently now that he’d started taking his meds again, but they still sucked.  They weren’t real, and he knew that, but it was still hard not to flinch a little later when Hannah’s claws dragged across the arm of the couch, just a couple inches away from his arm.  He reminded himself that couches didn’t bleed -- that meant _for sure_  that what was happening couldn’t be real.  

Chris looked at him with concern.  “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah.  Totally.”  

It was a lie that had gotten easier to tell, over the years, the more times he said it.  He didn’t call him on it.  He just nodded, scooted a little closer to him, and turned his attention back to the movie they were supposed to be watching.  When Josh reached out and took his hand, Chris gave it a reassuring squeeze.

~

The nightmares were easier to deal with.  They were violent and gross, and the worst part was at least half of them had actually happened at some point, but at least they went away when he opened his eyes.  They were horrible, gruesome, but they ended when he woke up, and he could deal.  

He woke up in a cold sweat, shaking, not remembering what the nightmare he’d just had had been about, which was probably for the best.  He wrestled free of his bedsheets and sat up.  He turned on the lamp beside his bed, just to convince himself that nothing was there in the room with him.  

There wasn't.

He rubbed his face and got out of bed.  The apartment was quiet, dark -- he glanced down the hallway to make sure Chris’ door was shut before flipping on the living room light.  He walked the kitchen and flipped the light on there, too.  He wanted as much light as possible and as long as Chris’ door was closed, it probably wasn’t going to wake him up.  

There were cookies in the cabinet furthest from the fridge, and they were his go-to comfort food.  If he concentrated on chewing them, it distracted him from everything else, a little.  His therapist called it “mindfulness” -- he called it “these cookies are fucking delicious.”

He was going to sit, he was going to mindfully eat his cookies and mindfully stare at the TV for as long as it took to be able to fall back asleep.  There had to be something good on at three am, right?

Except there wasn't, as usual.  He’d figured as much, but hope sprang eternal and all that crap.  It was amazing how he could have nine hundred channels with nothing interesting on _any_  of them.  No movies, no tv shows.  It was even too late for late-night porn, not that he was really in the mood to jerk off.

On the bright side, flipping through every single channel helped pass the time a little, and eventually he found a channel with a set of infomercials that was just the right balance of funny and stupid.  The closer to dawn it got, the less he felt like he was going to get dragged away by Hannah the second he dozed off again.

"Josh?"

Josh glanced up to find Chris standing there, looking more asleep than awake, disheveled in his PJs.  

"Hey, Cochise.  What're you doing up?"

"What're _you_  doing up?"

He looked back at the TV.  

"Couldn't sleep."

"You okay?"

"Y-yeah.  Yeah.  I'm cool, bro."

He felt the couch dip under Chris' weight.  

"Anything good on TV?"

For the past hour Josh had been watching nothing but infomercials.  It was that time of late night/early morning where every single channel was in a surreal kind of infomercial hell.  It had become a kind of ritual for him.  He'd learned more about weird household appliances in the past month than he had in his entire life.

"Oh yeah," Josh replied with a laugh.  "Watched a cool demo for an egg slicer.  It slices, it dices, it makes French fries."

"Out of _eggs_?" Chris asked incredulously.  “How would that even work?”

He shrugged helplessly and soon they were both laughing.

Chris settled onto the couch and put his arm around Josh's shoulder.

"You're not going back to bed?"

"Are you kidding?  And miss out on,” he glanced at the TV and did a double-take, “the FIR-Real Portable Sauna?  Is this for real?"

Josh laughed.

Chris tugged him close and kissed the top of his head.  Josh tucked himself under his chin, nestled against his chest, and stayed there for the next two hours watching several more infomercials.  He half-sat half-laid there, listening more to the steady beat of Chris' heart than the TV.

"We should buy a Snuggie," Josh said with a yawn.

"Two, you mean."

"Nah, they make one big one for couples.  I saw it on TV a few nights ago."

He chuckled.  "Dude, you have a problem."

"I have _so_  many problems, Cochise."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chris said softly.

"I know."

Sometimes late at night his face itched, on the side where his mouth had split wide to make room for rows of sharp, jagged teeth.  That was something he kept to himself.  He couldn't tell his new therapist, for obvious reasons.  He couldn't tell Chris, either.  Not because he wouldn't listen, or believe him -- he'd believe, he'd _seen_ it -- but because Josh was afraid.  Afraid he'd scare him away, because it was already a miracle Chris could still stand to be around him.

"You're shaking."

"I'm okay."

Chris sighed and rubbed his back.  "I know you don't want to talk about it, but if you ever change your mind... I'm here for you, you know?"

"I know."

~

They watched TV for a couple more hours.  Actual legit morning had to be getting pretty close, and he felt bad for keeping Chris up with him, but he didn’t have the heart to tell him to go back to bed.  He liked this too much, cuddling with him on the couch -- it made him feel a little bit better.  Selfish of him?  Probably.  Chris had shit to do during the day, he had work, he needed actual sleep.  

Josh could afford to have a crappy sleep schedule because the only quote unquote responsibilities he had were his appointments with his therapist, his physical therapist, his dietician -- who still couldn’t figure out why he got sick if he went a day or two without eating some kind of meat and probably wasn’t ever going to figure it out, because who _could_  figure any of this shit out?  Once a week he went to a support group and spent an hour listening to people talk about how getting over traumatic experiences was a process, and dealing with mental illness alongside it made it harder but it was doable, and it was probably good and true advice for somebody who hadn’t literally turned into a flesh-eating monster on top of it.

He sighed.

Chris rubbed his back.  "You tired?"

"I'm always tired, man."

He _was_ getting sleepy, though, finally.  That drowsy haze that made him feel a little like he was floating.  He felt warm and safe, and a little bit less like garbage.  Chris' arms around him felt secure on an emotional level even if they wouldn't do shit to protect him from the things that _really_  gnawed at him.

"Want to go to bed?  Um, my bed?"

"Yeah.  That sounds good."

Chris was constantly reminding him he was always welcome in his bed if he wanted to be there.  They’d fallen asleep in bed together so many times over the years, way before they’d ever hooked up -- it had never felt weird.  Now it felt weird, not because Josh didn’t want to be there -- he did, he  _so_  did, for so many reasons -- but because he didn’t want to be a burden.  He didn’t want Chris to feel like he had to take him to bed just so he could sleep well.  He didn’t want to wake Chris up in the middle of the night constantly with his nightmares.  

He didn’t want to wake up to find out he’d eaten Chris in non-sexy way in his sleep, though he was a lot less worried about that now than he had been a few months ago when he could still taste meat and blood in his mouth every time he closed his eyes.  He’d tried to go vegan for awhile, but a diet without meat didn’t do great things to his digestive system.  Which sucked, because it had taken him awhile to be able to eat burgers again without wanting to throw up.

It would take him awhile longer to feel like he had the right to want to sleep in Chris’ bed full-time -- or any time -- but when he curled against him under the covers, he felt like he belonged there.  Like he was wanted there, no matter what lies his brain liked to tell him on the bad days.

“Look, I know things have been rough, but… it’s gonna be alright.  You know that, right?”

Josh sniffed, and hoped in the dark it wasn’t too obvious that he was crying, a little bit.  It was fucking embarrassing.  “Yeah.”

“You could stay.  More often, I mean.  I know the nightmares are still bad.”

“You don’t have to look out for me, Cochise.”

“I don’t _have_  to, I _want_  to -- and we’ve always looked out for each other, man, why should it be any different now?  I want you here with me, Josh.  If you’d rather just sleep in your room, I’ll understand, but if you’re only doing it because you’re worried about bothering me or something…  You don’t have to be.”

Josh tilted his face upward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  Chris' mouth was warm and moved sleepily against his.

"What was that for?"

"I don't know, for just being there.  For me.  And, uh, for being so... you, in general, I guess."   

He cupped his Josh’s face in his hands and pressed his forehead against his.  "It's gonna be okay."

He wasn't so sure, not after everything that had happened, but he wanted to believe it.  

Chris wrapped his arms around him.  It wasn't going to protect him from any monsters inside or outside his head, but it still made him feel safe.  Something inside him slowly unclenched and suddenly sleep deprivation caught up to him all at once and he found himself blinking back sleep instead of tears.

Thankfully this time he didn’t dream.

**Author's Note:**

> The FIR-Real Portable Sauna is for real. I don't know _why_ it exists, but it does. It's about as ridiculous as it sounds. The "egg fries," however, I totally pulled out of my ass. I wouldn't be that surprised if they exist out there somewhere, though.


End file.
